


Second Chances

by catsinthetardis



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsinthetardis/pseuds/catsinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First fic, also on Fanfic.net. John Watson arranges to get shot to be sent home from Afghanistan after his sister is assassinated to run the family business and meets Jim Moriarty</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> *posted under same name on fanfic.net

It started with a phone call. John H. Watson was sitting in his tent, relaxing as much as he could before a new group of soldiers crawled in to be patched up. A shaky voice at the other end of the line said "I-Is this John Watson?"

"How did you get this number." 

The voice trembled. "Y-Your sister, Harry, has been killed. She told me before she died to bring you back to London." John stared blankly at the far side of the tent. Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, he slowly hunched forward, letting out a sigh. It had been only a matter of time with his sister, she was always too drunk to take security seriously. 

"Expect me within two weeks. What's your name?" 

The voice sounded relieved. "She wasn't sure you'd come back. My name's Adam Harrison. I'll be waiting, she said you could find me."

John hung up and hid the phone away. It was rather fortunate he'd been back at the tent when Harrison had called, he could have as easily been out on a field mission. He was disappointed to leave, he'd formed several close friendships and enjoyed the constant rush of adrenaline. But he also wanted to return to London, his city. He wonders what might have gone on in the time he's been away. He'd have to make arrangements to get back soon, but right now there was someone yelling for his help outside. John ran out, grabbing his first aid kit.

Running with the man who'd called him, he was caught up with what was happening.

…..

Returning to his tent, John reflected on the last six hours he'd spent saving some kid who'd got his leg blown off. He needed to get home, but the army would never let such an experienced surgeon go without good reason. John picked up his phone and made a call. 

The next day on field duty, he waited for the signal, (the jeep in front of his lurched violently to the side as a small mine went off under it, injuring several soldiers). He ran out despite the protests that their medic would get them, and crouched over the nearest wounded. Over the sobbing and gasping of his charge, John heard several shots, and the answering cover fire. He heard and saw the signal as he worked on his patient (two shots from a hidden rifle, the nearest two men drop like sacks of so much meat), and relaxes, remembering his 'ma telling him if he knows he's about to get shot to relax to minimize muscle tearing.

BANG. Oh dear God the pain it's like nothing he's ever felt or remotely hopes to feel again and he can feel the blood leaking out of his shoulder, oh why did I think of this I'm going to die in this godforsaken desert…

John wakes up in agony, or what he can remember of it. 

"I must be on the good stuff if I can only feel a twinge." 

"Oh! Good, you're awake." 

He groans and replies. "How long have I been out? It feels like I got kicked by a mule and then run over by a lorry." 

The overworked nurse managed a chuckle at his pathetic attempt at humor. "You've been asleep three days Dr. Watson. They managed to get you out and back to London rather quickly. Luckily, the wound was not fatal, but you'll definitely suffer some nerve damage. You'll be lucky if you can move your left arm at all for the next few days, but the sooner you can move it, the sooner you can get it back to full strength. I'm afraid your days as a surgeon are through though, you simply can't regain all the motor control lost." John smiled tightly, they'd be surprised at what a well-placed bullet wouldn't damage. And he'd hired the best he knew, who happened to be an old friend.

…

If the doctors were surprised at his rapid recovery, they didn't say anything. Leaving the PT area after his last day of constant exercising his muscles, he headed to his temporary lodgings. He pulls out his laptop, and starts checking crime rates and the forums his sister made the organization use. The codes were far too easy to break, he'd get someone on those. Or, just keep them as-is and post fake information on them. Yes, that sounded much better. He'd think of a new code. 

John sighed as he looked at he crime rates, his sister had really been slipping the past year, it was really no wonder she'd gotten offed. Disappointment was followed with worry. If his sister had gotten killed, what about Harrison? Had he been strong enough to hold the organization in check while John plotted to get back to London?

Only one way to find out. John left a message on the forum, using his old codename 007. His sister had teased him endlessly, but John really liked the Bond movies. Just to spite him, Harry had chosen "Brokenclaw" as her codename. John smiled sadly and hit enter. 

The message read "guess who's back in the game?".

He left the message board open all night, periodically checking to make sure he hadn't been hacked or anything of the sort. The reply came around midnight, when people usually checked the board. John gave a chuckle. It seemed Harrison had a sense of humor. He can work with that. 

"Agent 007. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to meet me exactly where I was when I called you. You have three hours." Cracking his knuckles, John grinned and grabbed the burner phone. He did love a challenge, and in the old circle he had gained a bit of a reputation as a hacker. This was as much a test of his identity as an invitation.

He didn't remember Harrison, but he did remember the one person who would still know his old codename. Mitchell. They'd grown up together, mob kids, learning the ropes and sharing marks. The encryption was a small challenge, increasingly less so as it all came rushing back to him. As soon as he was finished and was sure of the coordinates, John grabbed his coat and few personal belongings, shoved them in a messenger bag, and walked out the door of the bedsit. He didn't look back.

John walked into the office building and straight up to the receptionist. "How can I help you today sir?", he said, barely glancing up from the book. "Hi, I have a 4:00 appointment with Mr. Bond." The receptionist finally looked up and addressed John directly. "He's expecting you, go right on up. Third floor, second door to the right." Of course, John already knew where to go, and was walking to the elevator before the man had finished talking.

As he walked into the office, a deep sneering voice spoke from the large swivel chair behind the desk. "Well, if it isn't John Watson, Soldier Extraordinaire."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's back, and so is his mysterious friend that shot him. He catches up with his second-in-command.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is a bit ooc, but it works better in this au.

John stared at the leather chair as it dramatically turned around, and as soon as he made eye contact with the man sitting in it, they both dissolved into peals of laughter. Once they had their breath back John asked, "Mitchell! How've you been?" "Well enough mate, but you know about the recent happenings. It's a right shame." John shrugged amiably and replied, "Well with Harry being drunk three-quarters of the time, it was only a matter of when someone would take advantage of it. I trust you've kept her passing as quiet as possible?" Mitchell grinned. "I thought you knew me better than that John! Only Harrison and I know that Harry bit it. Everyone else was 'tragically killed defending the boss.' It's partially true." Several hours of talking and catching up later, John was satisfied that the business was still in order after Harry's death. "Mitchell, is there somewhere I can stay? The pension from the army is pretty pathetic. I left the apartment and I already cleared all the records from the hospital and bedsit. As far as the government knows, Captain John H. Watson died in combat and was flown home." Mitchell just laughed and gave John an address. "That was quick John, but I wouldn't expect anything else from you. And you should know that only I know where it is. Some of the foot soldiers have been growing restless and I've heard rumors they plan to throw a coup." John smiled wolfishly, excited to be back after talking to his long-time friend, and Mitchell was reminded exactly how the Watsons had stayed on top of the proverbial food chain. Still smiling, John waved and left the office.

.....................

James Moriarty was livid. His best sniper, Sebastian Moran, had gone out on a field mission for him last week and hadn't retuned yet. It was a simple hit, it shouldn't have taken him so long. Moriarty had checked plane records and discovered that Moran had taken a plane to Afghanistan. He was just starting to consider sending someone after him when he walked in the door with a duffle bag. Moriarty was secretly pleased that he didn't have to send a spy to watch his second-in-command. Sebby looked tired but pleased with himself, surprising Moriarty. The only time he'd seen Moran smile genuinely was after he'd killed someone. "Why are you so late? It shouldn't have even taken you a day to kill that oaf." Moriarty would have just tortured anyone else, but he trusted Sebby to tell the truth. "It took 30 minutes to get past that guy's security, it was horrible. When I was leaving I got a call for a rush job for an old friend from the army."

Moriarty was surprised, to say the least. Sebastian Moran had been dishonorably discharged after refusing to follow orders to fall back. There had still been an injured soldier in the area, and Moran hadn't wanted to leave him behind. Normally, that would have been reason for commendation, but the commanding officer severely disliked Moran and twisted the story. The soldier had been sent home before giving testimony to the fact Moran had saved him, and the other soldiers in the unit didn't have the courage to contradict the officer. Moran hadn't helped by yelling at the officer and the board that had been assigned to investigate. "Who? I hadn't seen anyone particularly close to you in your unit. And how would you be able to get them home? You're a sniper Sebby." Sebastian laughed and explained.

"You're right, there wasn't anyone in my unit I was particularly close to. However, about a year ago we were under heavy fire. We had received intel that there was a hostage situation, and we had another unit as backup. We should have known it was an ambush, it was in a camera dead spot in a remote area. I was hit several times while getting one of my men to safety." Moriarty had known that Sebastian had been shot, giving him scars akin to tiger stripes. That was how he'd gotten the nickname, and now assassin moniker "Tiger" in the first place.

"My unit's medic refused to work on me, saying that there were others with a better chance of survival that he could work on. You don't argue with medics in the field, so they let him move on. The unit we were working with also had a medic. He was running to the front when he saw me bleeding out. I don't know how he could tell I was still alive because corpses surrounded me and I imagine I looked like one. But he did, and hurried over. I had severe blood loss and I tried to tell him that others needed his help more than I did. He laughed and told me that they needed my help more than his. Somehow he managed to patch me up enough that I could be moved back to base. He was a damn good doctor. When we got there, he chewed out my unit's medic for not checking the severity of the wounds before moving on while he was almost elbow-deep in blood during an operation. They weren't that serious and would have healed much faster if he'd actually bothered to see if they were life-threatening. My unit's medic actually passed out after that reprimand. So when I got a call from him, I hightailed it out of London."

"The only special service you offer is assassin Sebby, why would an army doctor want you to take him out of the game?" Moriarty was still slightly perplexed. Sebastian shrugged. "He didn't tell me, but the army doesn't let go of surgeons of his caliber without good reason. A bullet through the shoulder is as good a reason you can get."

"Sebastian, what was his name?" Moriarty was considering hiring this fellow because it wasn't often that Sebastian disobeyed orders to do something. In fact, this was the first time, and to do it in such a spectacular way meant this man could be an important asset. "Captain John Watson."


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, John started plotting with Mitchell and Harrison how to run the business. They met at John's new apartment, a homely yet secure place at 221B Baker Street. The landlady was the sweetest person John had ever met, and he made a mental note to get someone trustworthy to watch over her. He had also considered getting a flatmate, but decided it was too risky. And anyway, who would want a supposedly crippled ex-army doctor as a flatmate?

"Harry started letting the little fish get out of control. We're going to have to start pulling them back in or killing them off. Do you have a list of the so-called 'new bosses'?" Mitchell sighed, and pulled out a folder. "They've started getting restless, forming new gangs and the like. It was always a hassle to keep them in line." John smiled again, and the fluffy oatmeal jumper and John's seemingly sweet demeanor fooled Mitchell for a split second. Then he reminded himself that this was the same John Watson that had tortured and killed an entire group of the Russian Mafia to send a message to their handler. Mitchell shuddered and thought to himself "People are always worried about the mean-looking ones, but they should truly worry about wolves in sheep's clothing. And there's only one I know."

John took a second to regard Mitchell out of the corner of his eye. He'd changed from the goofy-looking kid with a bowl cut to a lean, tall, man with dark brown eyes and brown hair that was cut short, but not as short as a buzzcut. He had an angular nose, and a naturally neutral expression. His freckles were still fairly prominent, making him seem younger than his 31 years. He'd always been good at reading people, and John was happy to see him after three years in the military.

Looking over at Harrison, he saw severe doubt in his stance and eyes. John didn't blame him, Harrison had joined the business while he was in Afghanistan and didn't know him. The only Watson he'd ever met was his half-drunk sister. He almost giggled when he imagined the "team building" exercises that were in order. He looked more carefully at Harrison, deciding that unless he betrayed him, (as he was obviously contemplating) he could stay.

................

Adam Harrison took his first good look at the new boss and almost quit right there. John Watson was a short, cuddly man who didn't look like he'd worked a day in his life. What he had been doing in the army was a mystery, and he guessed he had only been something of a secretary. The only real way to tell he'd even been in the military was the buzzcut, which was starting to grow out. He compared John Watson to himself in his mind. While Watson was only 5'6", Harrison was 6'0". The jumper made Watson look chubby, while Harrison was thickly muscled. He went on to compare Watson's facial features to his own. Harrison had delicately built features, except his nose, which looked quite out of place. Watson looked like a puppy, cute and about as dangerous. His sister fit the title of mob boss more than he did, which was quite a feat, her being drunk all the time. Harrison decided to give Watson one try to get this right and listen to him, and if he didn't he'd kill him.

All three men shook themselves out of their thoughts when Mrs. Hudson knocked at the door. "John? I brought biscuits for you and your friends." John walked over to the door and let her in, smiling his thanks. She left to go to Tesco's promising to get him some milk because he'd been meaning to but had "run into" some old friends of his. John came back over to where they had been sitting in the main room, holding the biscuits out and shrugging. Mitchell took one, grinning. "Wow John, such a charmer. How long have you been here? A day?" Harrison laughed, relaxing. They got back to business, this time with Mrs. Hudson's biscuits cooling on the table.

John was inquiring to Mitchell about the latest boundaries, and Harrison spread out a map. Mitchell thanked him and proceeded to grab a pen to mark it. "Ok, so in the south area there's an up-and-coming gang that's looking to spread its influence. Your sister had an agreement with them, but they've got a new leader now and he thinks he could take us. He's wrong of course, we know all his informants and have been giving him false information. His second-in-command though, is not to be taken lightly. She's smarter than him, and is probably gunning for the throne. We'd be able to deal with her, and you'd probably like each other. We could even help her out." John nodded thoughtfully, and Harrison spoke up with a scowl. "We don't mess with other mobs, because if they get busted so do we." John laughed. "Adam,-can I call you that?" Harrison scowled. "Guess that's a no. Harrison, we don't help the whole mob. We help one person who then rules the mob and keeps them out of our territory. What are the exact lines of our area anyway?"

Mitchell sketched several lines through London. "We're still mainly in the east, but we do have safehouses in the west and south. The north is run by the Spider." John looked up. "He's still around? Well I know one place we'll never send people." Harrison looked surprised. "But the north is real estate gold Watson. Why wouldn't we send people there? Your sister was planning to soon, I think she already had one or two." John laughed. "If you're smart, you don't deal with spiders. Especially not this one. His second-in-command is the best sniper in the world last check. No, we don't mess with them. And if you do, you die. Easy as that. Harry was being and idiot if she sent people out. We'll need to call them back, if they're not already dead." Still confused, and now slightly scared, Harrison asked "Why do they call him that?" John gestured to Mitchell. "What? The Spider?" Harrison nodded. "He has people everywhere. Not to make you paranoid, but I mean everywhere. And no one knows his name."

....................

The spider in question was looking through a certain Captain Watson's file. Although the title read "Deceased", Sebby had assured him Watson was alive and well. He couldn't find anything about his personal life, which was strange in and of itself, and the hospital record had been tampered with. It wouldn't be obvious to anyone else, but Moriarty had a way with computers and practice making people disappear. John Watson was an increasingly difficult puzzle, and that excited Moriarty more than his latest scheme. The only Watson he knew was a drunk bat who "ran" eastern London. Didn't she have a brother? He sat back in his chair, pondering his latest theory, and changed topics to researching Mycroft Holmes.

….

At the same time in 221B, Mitchell was briefing John on the situation with the government. "Is the Iceman still gaining power?" Mitchell nodded solemnly. "By now, as near as I can figure he practically runs the government." John whistled, long and low. "That's pretty serious. We'd better avoid him." Once again, Harrison was lost. "Iceman? Why does everyone have nicknames and who is he?" Mitchell pulled out the thin file on Mycroft Holmes. "He's a genius, and he doesn't like organized crime. With the level of power he has now it'll be harder to run operations. And we can't always tell who's working for enemies, so we use nicknames to keep names quiet."

John was considering Harrison. He had supposedly been Harry's right-hand-man, but he didn't know a thing about how a mob was run or any of their main competitors. It was becoming obvious that Mitchell had done most of the work without informing anyone. He didn't bring it up though, and neatly avoided Harrison's suspicion.

Harrison was sick of being confused. He'd come here as a plant from a rival mob, poised to take over when Harry was killed, but hadn't been expecting John-blooming-Watson to pop up out of the woodwork. He hoped he hadn't been too obvious in asking so many questions but Watson seemed stupid, and Mitchell would undoubtedly side with him because of Watson's idiocy. Harrison realized how new his home mob was to this business, and was almost glad he wasn't in charge yet. Undoubtedly, he would have walked right into death at either the Spider or Iceman's hands.

Now John was almost certain Harrison was a plant, after watching him grow quiet while plans were made after all his questions. He seemed to be questioning himself, and he really needed to learn how to keep his emotions under wraps. John looked at the clock on the wall and indicated that it was probably time to wrap things up. Harrison agreed, and started gathering documents. "Harrison, would you let Mitchell do his job? He keeps all the records and things." Harrison let go of the map that he'd been clutching like a lifeline, and nodded. Making a mental note that Mitchell was record keeper, he left 221B. Mitchell stood up to follow, and John walked with him to the front door. They watched Harrison leave, and John turned to Mitchell, grinning. "You know, I have a sneaking suspicion that Harrison isn't who he says he is." Mitchell smiled back and asked cunningly, "Whatever should we do?"


	4. Chapter 4

John left the room whose door was cleverly hidden behind some shelving in Mitchell's office, cleaning his hands off with a baby wipe. He grinned unnervingly at the small group waiting in front of the desk and said, "You can take your boss away now. Remind him that the Thames is only a good place to dispose of bodies if you tie the ropes holding it to the concrete right." He cocked his head. "Actually, I think only you need to know that now, he won't be able to tie anything without properly functioning fingers."

Glancing apprehensively at each other, the group walked into the adjourning room. John heard at least two retching, and reinforced his mental note to get someone to clean up later. The group walked back out carrying their unconscious leader between them. Several sent fleeting glances of fear directed at John as they exited.

Mitchell walked into his office as the pitiful group left, barely sparing them a look. "John, we need someone to infiltrate that new mob that we talked about at your flat. The shift in power might happen more quickly than we'd expected."

"I can go Mitchell, seeing as this would be about building trust between us and the new leader. I'll need a background though, do you think you can get on that?"

"Boss? I didn't hear what I thought I just heard, right? You're needed here, to start work in the management area. With Harrison disposed of, there's a power gap that needs filling, even if he wasn't doing much."

"Mitchell, don't tell me you weren't doing all the managing since Harry took over. We both know I've always been horrible with managing as many people as there are. Also, you know I was better at fieldwork, and my shoulder isn't even an issue anymore with all the pampering I've gotten from Mrs. Hudson. I know you can handle the work, but I can find someone to help if you want. Before I leave, I'll set you up with an assistant."

Sighing tiredly, Mitchell accepts that he won't be able to talk John out of going into the field. And having a work partner who knows what they're doing would be nice for a change. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Wait, John, what if someone recognizes you as the boss? Like any of the people who just walked out of here?"

John just smiled. "Well, Mitchell, sounds like I have my first job already."

.................

Molly Hooper was just finishing her last autopsy of the day when she heard the door to the mortuary open. "Sorry, we're closed now, unless you had an appointment with the supervisor or me I'm afraid your student examination will have to wait."

"Oh! Um, sorry, didn't know you were closed. Excuse me, are you Miss Molly Hooper?" John asked hopefully. 

Molly turned from the corpse to look at the short, gentle-looking man that had just walked in. "Yes, but I don't think I know you?" 

John took a second to appraise Molly, and thought he could sense a core of steel under her shy exterior. If she lived up to Mike's glowing reviews of management in Bart's, she could find herself the third in command of a very successful crime empire. John almost giggled at the thought of this timid young lady ordering muscle-bound thugs around. He was never one to judge by appearance though, and was willing to give her a chance.

“Well Mike Stamford is an old friend of mine, and he recommended you for a senior managerial position in my business. It wouldn't be much more work than you do here, with what I'd imagine to be quite a large pay raise."

Molly decided the man was serious, and replied, "Well as nice as that sounds, I'm quite happy here and couldn't stand to leave." As she was turning away, the man started talking again.

"You could, of course, keep doing the mortuary work if you'd miss it. I'm just looking for someone to help manage records and the like. The hours wouldn't interfere with your work here." Another reason John had chosen this particular woman was her connections in law enforcement through the mortuary. And access to chemicals. Really, it was like someone placed the perfect person exactly where she was needed. Quite convenient. Almost too convenient, except he had checked here background for anything suspicious. The only thing that had come up was a connection to a Sherlock Holmes, but even he couldn't deduce anything about a job offer if she didn’t think it amounted to anything. In short, if she agreed to the job, she was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait, it's been hectic out in real life. the next update won't be for a while, i'm still figuring out the main points. molly is totally unappreciated, and will have a good role


	5. Chapter 5

Sebastian Moran was having a very bad day. Not to say it hadn’t had its high points, but overall, it had been particularly crappy. Jim had him looking into routes to infiltrating a competitor that they thought was finally dying out but had made a spectacular comeback in the last two months. Not to mention he couldn’t get in touch with a friend who he had done a favor for. He’d been looking forward to having John back in the same area, but he appeared to have dropped off the map. 

This morning, Jim had him dye his hair black, and he’d dyed the beard he had been growing a few weeks. His beard naturally came in darker, but they’d had to dye it to be sure. It was a bitch to dye a beard, they’d discovered. Jim had been upset that he’d even need to send in his second-in-command, calling it “grunt work.” Sebastian had been pleased that his boss didn’t see him as a grunt, but this recognition had come while calming him down enough not to kill the poor guy who’d been sent to notify Jim that backup was needed because the entire group that had been infiltrating the mob had been killed. 

And not because they’d been found out, but because they were stupid enough to all be in the wrong place at the wrong time and Jim needed a “non-idiot who would at least branch out and not stay in a damn group” to try again. However, Jim had sent him on a quick errand run immediately after his tantrum, so obviously he had varying definitions of grunt work. 

He was currently looking over the file for his cover, “Jake Adams.” According to the file, he was 34, and ex-military. He’d gotten a fake id, and was reviewing the personal parts again. Two sisters, parents both dead in a car crash, adjusting badly to civilian life and needing some excitement. He was hoping to score as a bodyguard for one of the higher-ups, trusting his experience to support his claims. 

The only problem Sebastian could see with this assignment was trying to fill Jim’s side assignments while maintaining cover as a bodyguard. 

“Seb?” 

“Yeah, Boss?” 

“How soon can you leave?” 

Of course, that was a trick question. 

“Immediately Boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just more filler, getting back to john next chapter


	6. Ch. 6

John was settling in nicely with the mob he’d infiltrated. It was rather small compared to the organizations he’d been with, but it had potential. He’d been snatched up as a bodyguard, as he’d beaten all the competitors stupid enough to come after him rather badly in the improvised gladiator match they’d been subjected to. 

John had to approve of the creativity.

One of the few who hadn’t been surprised by the doors slamming shut in the warehouse he and the other hopefuls had been told to report to, John had had a few second’s advantage in dealing with any serious competitors. After they were out of the way, it had been a simple affair of baiting any idiots into fighting each other and avoiding anyone with a firearm. Couldn’t be too careful. John and one woman were the victors, following one final trap that left two with broken ankles and one with a broken neck.

He couldn’t shake the feeling he knew one of the other people that had shown up, but they’d stayed out of any serious fighting and had vanished before John could find them again.

Trusting the hair dye and ridiculous overcoat to hide his identity in case he did know the mysterious person, John didn’t give it much thought.

They’d shaken hands and proceeded to clean up the mess in the dilapidated warehouse. John learned her name was Nicole, a brunette that was taller than him and very well versed in three kinds of martial arts. 

He learned that she wouldn’t take shit for or from him, and that she’d spit on him as soon as talk to him. John just shrugged and motioned that he’d stay out of her way, and soon he was walking out with her to get a coffee before tomorrow’s meeting with their new boss.

……………………………………………

Jim was in the middle of the checkup of his recruiting businesses, where he followed potential employees before offering or threatening them into a job with his organization. 

One of his puppet mob leaders had recently been trying to find bodyguards, and Jim was beginning to suspect that they were looking for an out from his control. Before killing all of the applicants to make a point, he decided that he wanted halvsies with the “boss.” 

He’d had Moran go undercover, as he was already in disguise for a different mission, and single out the most skilled applicant to court for hire. Moran had returned last night muttering about “God-damned hunger games,” and Jim was still giggling about the story Moran had told.

Apparently, the second-in-command had organized something of a gladiator match with all of the bodyguard hopefuls. As Sebastian hadn’t actually been ordered to infiltrate this mob, he’d simply slunk around in the background and watched the melee. 

Moran didn’t even have to do any work to decide who the best of the group was, by the end, there were only two left standing, and they made their peace and left. 

Sebastian was struck by the similarity of one to Watson, but dismissed the possibility because the was no way in hell Watson would leave something he loved just to be a bodyguard for a second-rate mob boss.

Jim was beginning to formulate a plan that would eradicate the idiot who wanted too much power, and looked over the staff for someone that would be a suitable replacement. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t simply swoop in and kill everyone because it would draw the Holmes duo like moths to light.

His priority was now to employ both victors before sending his message. The second in command seemed competent, and Jim hates to repeat something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, update! everything is starting to become clearer for the rest, hoping to get more out soon


End file.
